


Currents to Deep Water

by ssorrell



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, M/M, Trans Julian Bashir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssorrell/pseuds/ssorrell
Summary: “Elim’s right about you and the analogies,” Julian mumbled.  “You make them sound like they could mean anything.”Kelas and Julian have a very important talk, without saying much at all.





	Currents to Deep Water

Even before he fully understood the rules, Julian enjoyed Cardassian conversations.  He shared this commonality with Kelas, who struggled with displays of any hostility, and spoke to calm others instead of inflate himself.  

Kelas was candid, and always willing to indulge Julian in discussions of culture.  Julian had mostly given up on these with Elim.  Not because he lied or evaded him, anymore, but because he worked too hard at bridging the gap, explaining details when Julian longed for a chance to figure things out for himself.  Elim’s knowledge of humans was not as complete as he claimed, and had brought Kelas some embarrassment despite them both having good intentions.

Like the time Kelas asked about human sexuality.  He meant no offense, but Julian was surprised at how forward the questions were.  Kelas took a careful step to the side of the State when he presented his views - if the goal is _not_ to have a child, there is reward in restraint and shame in failure, he said - while Julian had to shake his head and repeat the question.

“I was just wondering about, well, sometimes under the covers you and Garak seem to…?  Wait, _what?_ ”

“The conditions are not correct for Elim and I to have a child, so we prefer to--”

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised at this,” Julian admitted. “What about just… don’t you enjoy each other’s company?”

“I certainly do, but it isn’t worth making Elim uncomfortable.  He has some ties to the old ways, as I’m sure you know.”

“I know he loves you very much,” Julian replied, immediately, and Kelas was soothed.

This was early in their relationship, where each of them provided a gradual fade between the other two.  Julian, for example, was there to interpret their feelings into physicality, to turn years of distance into a strong bond.  Elim shared what he knew about their inherent differences, eagerly experimenting and testing their limits.  And Kelas, having learned how to accept and correct past mistakes, tried to teach the others to embrace their true selves.

He used this exact phrase one night, much later in their lives together.

Elim was away to visit Pythas, and the children were at their weekly meditation with Nurse Sona.  The sun stretched gently through the front curtain, and Julian and Kelas sat on the lounge together.

Kelas was resting on his back, legs folded up to one side, with Julian reclining against him, back brushing Kelas’s thighs.  While the sun was up and Julian was not working, he preferred leaving his shirt off; Kelas delighted in the texture of his skin, and pulled him closer.

With Julian leaning against his chest, their cheeks pressed close together, Kelas shut his eyes and began drumming a soft pattern over Julian’s chest.  Over the scars, the ones he affectionately called Julian’s ‘ridges.’

Julian caught his hand but made no motion to redirect it.  Together, they paused for a moment.  Kelas opened his eyes and leaned back enough to see Julian’s face more clearly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Does it hurt when I do that?”

Julian recognized it now, whenever it made a rare appearance in Kelas’s tone - that unmistakable Cardassian duality.  He could’ve meant emotional or physical pain, or both.  Julian knew to be cautious in answering truthfully; both types of pain had burned out long ago, but the sudden touch and attention made a convincing case for rekindling them.  

“I’ll stop,” Kelas continued, noting the worry on Julian’s face. “You don’t need to discuss it.  Elim tells me the area is sensitive.” 

There it was again.  Julian gave a quick shake of his head, confined mostly to the cheek that touched Kelas.

“I don’t mind,” Julian said, with his eyes clenched shut. “It feels nice, actually.”

Gradually, Kelas began his coda.  He stroked the scar from one side, paused in the center, and then continued to the end.  Over and over.  He was careful the tips of his nails did not graze too deeply, afraid of hurting his partner.  When he thought about this possibility, both physical and emotional trauma came to mind.

“I consider it an honor, Julian, that you’re willing to share your true self with me.”

Julian drew his head back, mildly shocked.  The back of his head fell against Kelas’s shoulder, and Kelas patted him gently with his free hand.

“I understand it can be more traumatic to make yourself relive these kinds of things - explaining them over and over to everyone you meet like it’s any of their business - than it is to just bury them.  What is the expression, burying a hatchet?”

“I, er… not quite, in this case.”

Julian replaced his hand over Kelas’s, and tried to experience the feeling as he did.  Kelas had not, to Julian’s knowledge, met another human, and had no reason to question him beyond curiosity.  Julian had no reason to feel unsafe, either.

“I sort of, er, figured Elim knew by now, anyway.  I’d be surprised if there’s anything in my file he _hasn’t_ read.”

Kelas stayed contemplative and quiet.  

“I don’t mind,” Julian repeated. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, because I _do_ , it’s just, oh, I don’t know.”

“I think I understand,” Kelas said. “I’ve had to learn how to read between the lines, you know.”

Julian clasped Kelas’s hand more tightly.  

“Oh,” he said.

He dug up a memory of a conversation with Chief O’Brien, after a mission he conducted with a group of Cardassian women.  He wanted to be sure his terminology was correct.

“I think you do,” Julian concluded. “You consider yourself a scientist, don’t you?”

Kelas pressed his fingers down, as a reward.  Elim taught him the strategy, to give a reward every time the conversation did.  He learned more this way, and made the exchange more enjoyable for both of them.  Julian found it comforting.

“Yes, absolutely,” Kelas beamed. “But I think that’s the extent of our parallel.”

“Hmm,” Julian said, intrigued by the challenge.

“We are concerned with one’s strengths, and whether they should be assigned to benefit our military or our research.  Old Cardassia, I mean.  Personally I think each of us has a variety of strengths which may not fit neatly into either category.  But to challenge anyone’s definition of themselves,” he had to pause because the tragedy of the thought overwhelmed him. “Elim’s talked to me about that, about how they think your body disagrees with itself on Earth.  Or the body and mind?”

“I haven’t felt that in years, thankfully.”

“Thankfully,” Kelas echoed, in relief. “But no, I’ve never experienced the devastation of being unhappy in my own body.  Once my profession was chosen, I was free to decorate it and present myself however I wanted.  It had nothing to do with my colleagues taking me seriously.”

“For me it was trying to commit to myself,” Julian explained. “Trying to get myself to be a good patient, to go in for more procedures on my own free will, to really understand myself and feel I was making an educated decision.  And then I thought, no, it isn’t _educated_ , it’s _me_ and I’m going to listen to myself, I don’t need to prove anything to _myself_.  Maybe to others but,” he took in a shaky breath and got quiet, “not to myself.”

“Is it helpful to discuss?  If you’d prefer I tell a story, or anything to distract you--”

“I appreciate your concern, Kelas.  I have since the day I met you.  But it’s _fine_.”

“Mmm,” Kelas said, against Julian’s neck.

He took in a steadier breath, then a longer one, until he felt confident again.  During this, Kelas stopped his stroking pattern, but he began it again when Julian seemed to need it.  His breathing was normal and he opened his eyes to search for Kelas’s hand, as if it was not still beneath his own.  Kelas reminded himself that humans processed their truths differently.

“It seems to be very well healed,” Kelas praised. “Do you think it inspired you to pursue your surgical qualifications?”

“No, I was set on that already.  What it did do, though, was get me to stop thinking I was _fixing_ things.  I had this toy that I used to--”

“Mmm, Elim’s introduced us.”

Julian tried not to blush, as he pictured Kelas shaking hands with Kukalaka, who resided now in the children’s bedroom.  He was left on a shelf there without explanation, because Julian was not up to giving one.

“But I always thought I was fixing him, making improvements on him.  And to some extent, that’s true.  I mean, I gave him stronger thread and better stuffing, but I wondered if I was changing who he was, or just helping him discover it.  I want to help, not just _fix_.”

These lines were bold and widely spaced, enough for Kelas to glide easily between them.  Julian was talking about himself.

“The currents to deep water,” Kelas said, after a moment’s consideration. “The motion is superficial.  You can make small changes, but without any impact on the nature of the pool.”

“Elim’s right about you and the analogies,” Julian mumbled.  “You make them sound like they could mean _anything_.”

“That’s because I want you to find your own comfort.  What do you hear?”

Julian heard several dozen possibilities, and prodded his mind to sort through them quickly.  It did not mean his surgeries were worthless, it did not mean his identity had no impact on the pool of society, it did not mean…

“I don’t know,” he said.

“At the very least, I want you to hear that I love you, and that I see you exactly the way you want to be seen.”

“I hear that,” he said softly, with tears dotting the edges of his eyes.

“I can’t believe anyone would reject you.”

Kelas pulled him in even tighter, and crossed his arms protectively over Julian’s chest.

“Well,” Julian said, “that’s had no impact on the deep water.  I’m me, regardless.”

 


End file.
